


The Skinsaw Murders

by JackBivouac



Series: Rise of the Runelords [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work, Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Bondage, Brother/Sister Incest, F/M, Forced Incest, Guro, Interspecies Sex, Multi, Necrophilia, Other, Rape, Ritual Sex, Snuff, Throat Fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-11-28 08:12:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18205859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackBivouac/pseuds/JackBivouac
Summary: The adventures of Tsuto, the Skinsaw Man





	1. Spore

Tsuto never gave up the search for Nuli, the love of his life. But after three months of fruitless searching, even he had to admit that the trail had gone cold, at least for mere mortals such as himself.

His search had, however, unearthed rumors of a powerful witch living in the swampy wilds beyond Sandpoint. Her name was Xanes, and she was a lamia matriarch, woman above but body and tail of an immense snake below. She lived in a damp cavern walled in dark green mold and dripping fungi.

“Hello?” Tsuto called into the darkness, the lantern trembling in his hand.

He picked his way carefully around the cavern’s dank mess of furniture. A rickety table sat at the center of the cave, its damp surface cluttered with empty bottles, bits of cloth, and crumpled paper. A painting leaned against the far side of the table, facing a large leather chair smeared with rotten meat, its arms sticky with blood. 

A smaller table sat against the wall, its surface heaped with silver platters, fine porcelain plates, and crystalware. The ‘food’ on these plates and platters was, of course, rotten meat. It writhed with maggots while thick, rotting blood gelled in the glasses.

Scales scratched across stone. Tsuto turned and jumped, face-to-face with a head masked by a wild tangle of black curls. It belonged to a woman’s naked torso descending into blackish green scales.

“Hellooo,” Xanes hissed from somewhere within her tangles. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had visitors. Excuse the mess.”

Tsuto cleared his throat with a weak laugh. “Yes, yes, of course. My name’s Tsuto. I heard you might be able to help me. There’s a woman I need to find.”

“Isn’t there always,” Xanes snickered.

“Ha, ha, yes. So, um, can you help me?”

“That depends. Every power demands a price. What are you willing to pay?”

“Everything,” answered Tsuto, his voice for the first time solid and steady as the cave stone.

“Even your life?”

Tsuto’s eyes narrowed. “When I said everything, I did not speak frivolously.”

“Then you’re in luck. Follow me.”

Xanes slithered deeper into the cave. The stench of rot and decay grew thicker and even more overwhelming. The walls grew fuzzier and darker with fungus, sprouting horny ridges and tumor-like bulbs.

There, at the dead end of the cave was a body. It was covered entirely in the black, tumescent fungus except for a single circle of pristine flesh across its pectorals. A Sihedron, the seven-pointed star of ancient Thassilon, had been carved into its skin.

“Take off your clothes.”

Tsuto swallowed hard. He disrobed despite his growing suspicion that he would have to take this corpse’s place.

“Now hold still.” Xanes flicked out a long, blackish-green talon from her index finger. She dragged the talon through the skin of Tsuto’s chest.

He hissed and trembled but didn’t pull away. Soon, blood dripped down his chest from the seven points of a Sihedron.

Xanes stepped back and sucked her talon clean. “Mmm.”

“Is...is that it?”

“You wish,” snickered the witch. She pointed at the corpse. “Fuck it.”

Tsuto blinked, certain he had misheard. Xanes hadn’t moved an inch. His breath shaking, pulse accelerating, the half-elf squatted beside the reeking, molding corpse.

The stench stung his nose like an iron punch. Tears streamed from his ailing eyes as he inhaled the spores. It took every ounce of his willpower to keep his brain shut off long enough to squat over the corpse’s mold-carpeted crotch.

Tsuto shut his eyes, grabbed his shirking cock, and thought of Nuli. He imagined slipping his dick between the tight, wet lips of her slit. The snug squeeze of her spasming, pussy shaft. He could almost see her precious mouth opening into a pleasured moan, taste the stiffened, brown pearls of her luscious breasts.

His breath hissed, his swollen cock ready to burst in his hands. Tsuto cracked his eyes just enough to find the fungus-thickened mouth of the corpse’s anus. It slurped up his dick with a burst of spores and muffled squelch.

Each thrust pounded a cloud of stinking, choking spores into Tsuto’s nose, mouth, and throat. He clutched his throat, coughing and hacking with his dick caught in the corpse’s mossy shaft.

The fungus pocket quivered around his raging dick. It squeezed as tight as a living anus.

Tears and snot ran from Tsuto’s crumpled face as his dick pumped ounce after ounce of cum into the fungus-coated corpse. The pulsating mold wrung his cock of every last drop.

Tsuto yanked out as soon as he was dry, spores clinging and driving into the burning eye of his dick. The half-elf screamed, only to choke on the thick, stinking fungal clouds. He collapsed onto the cave floor. 

Wracking pain exploded from his crotch to his clenching fingers and toes, lancing through his gut and up his spine to the back of his skull. His body writhed and twisted in on itself.

Tsuto’s teeth grew long, sharp. His shriveling flesh bleached of color. It stretched tight over his warped, skeletal frame. A ghastly stink exploded from his every pore.

The last thing he heard was Xanes’ mirthless, hissing snicker. His entire world fell away first into blackness, then into burning, bloody red.


	2. Here He Cums, the Skinsaw Man

Tsuto, the ghast, the ghoul, crawled from Xanes’ cave and back into the wilds. He set out for Thistletop once more. He had not yet even crossed the bridge when his undead nose caught whiff of an overpowering scent.

His glowing red eyes dilated. Claws extended from his gnarled hands. Needle-sharp fangs lengthened from his jaws. This was the scent of a woman, and it drove Tsuto into the hunt.

The ghast followed its alluring cloud into the trees. His glowing eyes zeroed in on an elven woman on the hunt herself, a bow drawn in her shapely hands. Green hair pulled into a braid glinted in the setting sun.

This was not his beloved Nuli. It was only Shalu, but his elongated tongue could already taste her. He hadn't realized how delicious that taut, elven flesh of hers could really be.

Tsuto raised his head into an inhuman howl. 

Shalu's arrow twanged astray. Her head jerked in his direction, eyes wide with shock and budding fear. She could see nothing of his new, twisted form in the shadows save for the hollow, red light of his eyes. It was enough. Shalu ran between the trees.

Tsuto came crashing after her. He ran on all fours like a wild beast, claws ripping branches and bark from the trees.

Shalu threw a dagger behind her. The ghast batted it away as though it were a toy.

Her throat constricted, pulse pounding in her ears. She was miles from the town and this beast was gaining on her. She made for the nearest establishment, shouting for anyone to help.

The Sandpoint Lumber Mill was a wooden structure with thick, rough walls. The machinery within laid dormant. The only sound was the regular creak and splash of its massive water wheel.

Shalu's sweating hands fumbled with the mill door. She jumped inside, slamming the door into the ghast's shadowy, twisted face. She pressed her back against the door with all her might.

But the undead Tsuto knew no bounds. He threw himself at the heavy timbers with a force to shatter the bones of the living. His ghast's body, however, transferred the full bearing onto the door, slamming it into Shalu's back.

Shalu screamed, thrown from the door onto the carpet of sawdust. Her knees, elbows, and head banged against the floor. The twisted ghast fell upon her back.

Shalu clawed at the floor as she scrambled to get away. She was no match for the undead. Claws tore through her leathers and into her back. Fangs chomped into the crook of her neck and shoulder. Shalu gurgled blood.

Delicious. She was delicious. Her fear was the world's greatest seasoning. Tsuto needed more, more.

He ripped through her pants and soft skin of her thighs, shredding muscle and fat. Urged by her screams, the ghast shoved his bony undead cock into her anus. Every thrust ripped her walls apart and shredded the tissue. The head of his dick plunged blood and shaft torn inside out from her penetrated hole.

Shalu's cries and writhing weakened. Her rapist was pistoning her blood out through the wet squeeze of her ruined anus.

The raping Tsuto howled in the triumph of the hunt. His undead seed exploded from his bone of his cock. It was a burning toxin gushing into Shalu's bloodstream.

Her eyes rolled back into her skull. She foamed at the mouth, her body wracked with uncontrollable, toxic convulsions at the mercy of his seed.

Tsuto pulled out and flipped her over to see her purpling face as her body contorted. More, he needed more. Tsuto tore the ripped leathers off her torso, exposing her heaving chest and quivering breasts.

A new heat surged through him. He dragged his claws through the flesh of her chest, shredding her breasts. Tsuto, possessed by the transforming magic of the Skinsaw cult, carved a seven-pointed star into Shalu's raped and mutilated corpse.


	3. Monster in the Cellar

When Ameiko returned home that night, she was greeted by a fouler stench than any she’d ever encountered at the family Glassworks or the Rusty Dragon tavern, which was saying a lot. It was like something had died, putrefied in the sun, and then given birth to a barrel-full of maggots all in the span of a double shift.

She held her nose to her sleeve and followed the wretched stink down to the cellar. There was a sound like the gnawing of many rats. Ameiko raised her lantern, casting its rays into the shadows.

A gaunt, twisted shape, pale as gray death hunched over a mound of half-devoured rats. He raised his face, at once strange and familiar despite the mask of sticky blood.

“Tsuto!” Ameiko gasped, dropping her arms in shock. The stench stabbed in through her nostrils and open mouth. She broke into a fit of wretched coughing.

Her ghast of a brother threw his rat aside in a gush of blood. He bounded like an animal across the cellar, clawed hands and feet scraping the floor. Tsuto tackled his unsuspecting sister, throwing her against the stairs.

The back of Ameiko’s head banged against the stairs. She yelped in pain, too startled for fear. Kindred blood dripped down the line of her neck.

Delicious. Tsuto, pinning his sister’s body to the stairs with his own, bit into her slender, straining neck. 

Ameiko screamed. Curdling fear shot through her blood and into the ghast’s hollow fangs. Tsuto crowed at the heady rush.

He flipped the writhing Ameiko onto her back, the flesh of her neck tearing off in his teeth. Her hot blood ran down the cellar steps. His claws ripped her clothes to shreds. The blood pumping from her body reduced his sister's fight to helpless shivers as her body went into shock.

Her eyes bulged. She gurgled blood from her mouth and torn neck as her brother shoved his cock up her quivering anus. She was bleeding, dying, but the only thing Tsuto did was rip her anal shaft apart on his cock.

Tsuto pounded his sister's ass into the cellar stairs, her hands and feet flopping uselessly on the wood against his undead might. He exploded his noxious seed up her anus, but his cock remained turgid so long as he willed it. And Tsuto, the Skinsaw Man, did as he wilt.

He plunged his dick into his sister's fear-dried pussy, shredding her inelastic walls. Gouts of clumping blood accompanied her weak, nasal whimpers. 

Her dying cunt seized his dick in its deathgrip. Ameiko's eyes rolled back into her skull as her pussy's final shakes milked the toxic cum from her brother's cock.

Fortunately for his sister, she had blacked out from pain and blood loss by the time Tsuto turned her body ninety degrees to fuck the new hole he'd ripped into her neck. Her legs, hanging off the edge of the stairs, twitched and kicked each time his pistoning cock shoved through the bunched nerves and muscles of her throat. In place of breath, a pink slurry of blood and cum spouted from Ameiko’s dead lips.


	4. All Sprees Must Come to an End

Days of murder turned to weeks. As Tsuto soon discovered with his empowered nose, neither Nuli nor her abductors had remained in town. The lamia witch’s gift had an unexpected beneath, however. 

Undeath rendered each and every woman the ghast encountered equally delicious in fear and death. Thus, Tsuto was content to hunt indiscriminately and drag each victim back to his new lair, the Shadow Clock.

Hidden beneath the blackened goliath of the Irespan, the Giant’s Bridge, was a decrepit and sagging clocktower, a structure of teetering stone, wood, and rusted metal. The tower’s clock face, frozen in time, defiantly proclaimed it to be three o’clock at all hours of the day.

In a large and cluttered room of immense gears and clockworks rusted into place, Tsuto bound his latest victim spread-eagled to a massive, fallen cog. His ghastly scent alone had proved too much for the teal-haired nymph, knocking the fey unconscious. The pain of his dick’s entry into the pursed mouth of her anus shocked her back to life.

Myr screamed, thrashing in her bonds. The rough ropes held, abrading her soft, bark-hued flesh.

Tsuto only pounded deeper into her asshole. He licked the length of her desperately twisting neck, baring his fangs. Before he could bite, a strange chill spread from his chest.

The Skinsaw Man looked down. The tip of a bastard sword protruded out from his chest. He let out an inhuman screech.

The sword ripped upward, shearing the ghast into two connected halves with a burst of blood and slopping brains. Myr yelped in his place, turning her face away from the splatter that drenched the rest of her naked body. She turned back to see a different breed of undead slinging the body off their sword.

Orik wiped the blade clean on the pile of rags by the cog and bound nymph. They stopped, turning to the fey with a sheepish cringe. “Those weren’t your clothes, were they?”

Myr stared. Then broke into near-hysterical laughter. “Just, just untie me. Please.”

Orik’s blade blurred four times. Myr sat up rubbing her wrists. Her laughter faded at the release. Her naked body began to shake.

“Come on,” said Orik, holding out a hand. “Let’s get you out of here. What’s your name?”

“Myr.” The nymph took their hand.

Orik pulled her under their shoulder and draped a long, floor-sweeping cloak around her. “Nice to meet you, Myr. My name’s Orik.”

They walked together, at Myr’s hobbling pace, down the tower stairs.

“You’re a vampire,” she said.

“Yes.”

“Why would you save me from a kindred ghast?”

Orik snorted. “Kindred? Trust me, we’ve got nothing in common except a healthy dose of darkvision. And, to be fair, I wasn’t contracted to save you. I was contracted to kill him.”

“Oh. That makes sense.”

Orik gave her shoulders the slightest hug. “Not that I minded your help back there--you were a great distraction.”

“Too soon.”

“Sorry. Forget I said that.”

“I will. Once.”

Orik raised an eyebrow. “You plan on seeing more of me?”

“I’m in a bit of trouble back home. I could use a little direction, any direction, really.”

“I guess you could crash with me for a couple days if you don’t mind sleepy little backwater towns.”

“Sounds perfect. Thanks, Orik.”

The vampire winked at the lost nymph. “Don’t thank me just yet.”


End file.
